


Dresser Drawers and Slamming Doors

by nickelmd



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel/Omega Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, First Time, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, get it together boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 11:39:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15639999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nickelmd/pseuds/nickelmd
Summary: Dean’s new neighbor keeps slamming doors in his face, but Dean likes him anyway.





	Dresser Drawers and Slamming Doors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zaphodsgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zaphodsgirl/gifts).



> Written for Zaphodsgirl who kindly donated to Team TrashBrigade’s gisholarship fundraiser. It’s my first A/B/O, so I guess I can check that off my list now. 
> 
> I’m sorry/you’re welcome.

Dean arrives home from work one day and finds a moving truck in the parking lot. It’s not a surprise, the apartment next to him has been empty for close to four months, it is, however, a little disappointing because he’s gotten used to the privacy of having the whole floor to himself. His heats pass a little bit easier when he’s not worried about scandalizing his neighbors. 

He lives on the fourth floor, but he opts for the stairs, assuming that the new tenant is using the elevator to move in. The first thing he notices is that the stairwell smells different. Not just different…good. Dean feels his heart rate tick up as he climbs the stairs. He’s gotten lazy lately and taken the elevator too damn much if he’s already feeling lightheaded from one flight. 

Dean hears a clatter coming from above him, punctuated by a loud, “Fuck.” Dean’s already quickened heartbeat ramps up more and he hurries to the source. He finds a man midway up a flight of stairs, with a large dresser in his arms. The dresser is objectively too large for one person to handle. The man is cursing and shifting the weight giving Dean an excellent view of the muscles in his back flexing in time with his struggle. Dean tears his eyes away long enough to notice the drawer that’s fallen out of place and down the stairs. Looking back at the dresser, Dean can see the man is trying to shift the dresser in order to close the remaining drawers before they fall out too. Dean picks up the drawer and rushes to the other side of the dresser.

“Here, man, let me help you,” Dean says, taking some of the weight while he shoves in the drawer in his hand and hip checks shut a couple more. Once everything is in place Dean takes half the weight and asks, “I assume you’re headed up to 4?”

The man in question is hidden by the bulk of the dresser, so Dean hasn’t seen his face, but his brain is gradually putting together the smell of the stairwell with the sweaty man a few steps beneath him. His new neighbor is an alpha. A fucking young, sweaty alpha, who smells like Dean’s most lascivious fantasies come to life. 

“Yes, thank you,” the man says tightly. The words grind out in a rumble that has Dean’s dick on high alert. He tries to rein in his arousal, because it feels like bad form to introduce yourself to your new alpha neighbor while smelling like horny omega and sporting a semi. The sound of the man’s heavy breathing cuts off, presumably because Dean has taken half the weight off his hands, but he continues, still sounding mildly strained, “I wouldn’t want you to go out of your way. I can manage the rest of the way on my own.”

Dean snorts skeptically. Such alpha bullshit. “Whatever dude, I’m heading up there anyway, looks like you’re stuck with me,” Dean says, his tone challenging, but light. 

“You live in 402?” the man asks, voice a little shaky, and Dean wonders just how this guy thought he was getting this dresser all the way upstairs on his own. 

“Yep,” Dean says, hefting the dresser and starting to move. Dean steps backwards up the stairs and his new neighbor follows. “I’m Dean, by the way,” he offers, mostly to distract himself from how amazing the air between them smells. If you had asked him an hour ago, a blow job was not an appropriate welcome to the neighborhood gift, but he’s less convinced now.

He hears the man swallow and take a steadying breath below him, “I’m…Castiel,” he says, “I’m moving into 401.”

Dean laughs a little, “Yeah, I figured that part out.” He breathes in through his open mouth and that…was a mistake. He can taste the air between them in a way he has never experienced. He stumbles a little on the next stair, but catches himself immediately. Castiel freezes below him.

“Dean, are you ok?” He can feel Castiel trying to take the full weight of the dresser back into his own arms.

“I’m fine, dude, I got it.” Castiel gradually relaxes the weight back into Dean’s arms and they make it the rest of the way up the stairs without incident. 

As Castiel reaches the last few stairs his head appears over the top of the dresser. He emerges bedhead first and shocking blue eyes next. Dean’s mouth goes a little dry as his shoulders and a truly indecent amount of collarbone appear. They set the dresser down in front of 401 and Dean opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. Castiel, for his part, looks stoic but slightly pained. Dean’s only explanation is that his arousal must be written all over him and Castiel is looking for an easy way to let him down.

The door to 401 opens abruptly, “Cassie I told you to wait for m—oh, hello there, handsome.” The man in the doorway looks Dean up and down with a knowing smirk Dean does not enjoy. The information that Castiel has a boyfriend douses Dean’s mood like a bucket of cold water. He tries not to look betrayed when he looks back to Castiel, but given the wince on Castiel’s face, he’s not sure he succeeded. 

“Gabriel,” Castiel hisses.

“What, you show up at the door with that piece of arm candy smelling like you just f—“

“Gabe,” Castiel interrupts, and shoves the man so hard that he stumbles back into the apartment. Castiel slams the door shut and keeps a hold on the handle. “Please excuse my brother. He can be difficult…and…rude. I’m sorry. Just because you’re…and I’m…I don’t…I wouldn’t. I’m not like that. I’ll be a good neighbor, I promise. You don’t have anything to worry about from me.”

Dean can smell sincerity tinged with frustration hanging in the air between them. “Don’t sweat it, man. It ain’t anything I haven’t heard before,” Dean says. 

Castiel’s scent turns a little sour at that, but he nods at Dean and says, “Thank you for your help, I’ll just,” and flicks his head between the dresser and his door.

“Sure,” Dean sticks his hand out in front of him. He wants a good solid handshake to help him get a handle on Castiel’s reaction to him. His body language is all over the map and he smells so good Dean’s having trouble parsing out much except the desire to press him against the door and lick the smell directly from his sweaty neck.

Castiel already has the dresser leaned back in one hand and the other on the door knob. He shrugs nonchalantly and opens the door, pulling the dresser with him. “Sorry, it was nice to meet you, Dean.” After he pulls the dresser all the way inside he gives an awkward wave without coming back to shake Dean’s hand, and promptly shuts the door, leaving Dean on the other side, confused, aroused, and a little offended.

“Huh,” Dean thinks, “that was…something.”

********

Dean expects to have plenty of opportunities to figure Castiel out. Before his previous neighbor moved out, Dean had seen him almost every day. Castiel, however, remains elusive. It’s nearly two weeks later when he next sees him. 

Dean is standing at his door, sliding the key into the lock when he hears Castiel’s door open. Dean turns his head, letting muscle memory work the door lock, before pulling the key out and shoving it in his pocket. Cas’ head pops out and immediately turns toward Dean, before going completely still. “Hey, Cas,” Dean says. 

Castiel blinks twice before he says, “Hello, Dean.”

Dean takes a step down the hall. “You on your way out?” he asks.

Castiel still hasn’t moved. “Uh, yes. I mean, I was, but I…forgot…a…thing. In here.”

Dean stops midway between his door and Cas’, rocking back on his heels. “You forgot a thing, huh?”

“Yes. I’m going to…get…that thing…now. It was nice to see you again, Dean.” That last part comes out sincere and, Jesus, fucking sweet, if Dean had to describe it, but before Dean can open his mouth to reply, Castiel shuts the door quickly.

Dean stands there for a few moments, dumbstruck, wondering if Castiel will be out again soon, before chiding himself and heading to work.

********

Dean thinks about running into Castiel a lot. Even though he rarely catches a glimpse of the man, his scent lingers in the hallway enough for Dean to know he comes and goes frequently enough that it’s weird Dean hasn’t seen him. He tries not to take it personally. And he tries to keep Castiel out of his personal spank bank, because he’s a goddamn gentleman…mostly.

By the time Castiel has lived there for two months, Dean has only run into him a handful of times, but he’s so intimately familiar with his scent that most days he can tell what kind of day the dude has had by smell alone. The first few days after he moved in where the worst. Dean had thought his scent was overwhelming that first day in the hall, but for the next two days Dean found himself stopping in front of Castiel’s door for minutes at a time, before he would snap himself out of it to go about his day. After a few days it had mellowed enough to be a pleasant distraction. Dean wonders if his own scent is as noticeable in the hall, he’s been there longer after all. 

Dean pulls into the parking lot thinking about how much he doesn’t run into Castiel (he’s thinking about it, not obsessing, thank you very much, Sam), so he’s taken by surprise when he sees Castiel walking through the parking lot just as Dean pulls into his own spot. He shuts the car off quickly and pops up over the roof of his car to call out. “Hey, Cas, uh, Castiel.”

Castiel is standing near a gold monstrosity about five cars down, hand on the door. Dean has noticed the car of course, but it didn’t occur to him that it might belong to Castiel. Castiel turns and looks at Dean over the cars between them. Castiel smiles in his direction and it occurs to him that he’s never seen Castiel smile. He’s always polite in his weird way but a little tense, and Dean gets the impression he’d rather be elsewhere. It’s the first time Castiel looks genuinely happy to see him. “Hello, Dean,” he calls out.

“I didn’t know that was your car,” Dean replies.

“Yes,” Castiel replies simply. There’s a glint of humor in his eyes that says he’s waiting for Dean’s commentary.

Dean doesn’t let himself be baited. “A car that age must take a little looking after.”

“Sometimes it’s the difficulty that makes a thing worth having.” Castiel is too far away for Dean to smell it on him, but Dean’s still struck to his core by the sincerity in his words. “Besides, you must know something about that,” Castiel says gesturing to Dean’s own 50-year-old car.

Dean looks down and spreads his palm over the roof of the car before looking back at Castiel. “I would.”

The silence stretches out between them, but neither of them moves. Castiel closes his eyes and breathes deeply. When he looks back at Dean he says, “I’m on my way to work, but maybe I’ll see you again soon.”

Dean searches Castiel’s face. “Maybe. We haven’t had the best luck with that though, have we?” 

It’s hard to tell from this distance, but he thinks Castiel colors at that. “I…I suppose you are right about that. I’ve been busy with…work and moving in, but, I expect I’ll be around more in the near future.”

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to be patient then, won’t I?” Dean doesn’t mean it to come out flirty, but Castiel is definitely pink around the ears now. 

Dean wonders if he pushed it too far, but then Castiel shrugs and says, “They say good things come to those who wait.”

Dean pushes himself off the roof of his car and steps away to close the door and lock it. Castiel opens his door. Dean raps the roof and looks at Castiel. “That’s what I hear. See you around, Cas.”

Cas smiles again, a small, private thing. “Have a nice evening, Dean,” he says. Dean watches while he gets in his car and drives away.

********

It’s been two weeks since their parking lot encounter and Dean really, really, honestly thought he’d have seen Cas around since then, but he hasn’t. The worst part is that Cas’ scent has been so…happy. At first, Dean thought maybe Cas’ was happy because of their conversation, at the thought of seeing more of Dean, but the longer he goes without seeing him, the more likely it is that there’s some other omega making Cas happy. She’s probably sweet and charming and Cas probably doesn’t shut doors in her face because she’s too delicate and refined.

“Ok, cher, that’s enough,” Benny says as he pulls the tumbler of whiskey out of his hands, “let’s get you home.”

Dean’s head is swimming. “How much of that did I say out loud?” Dean asks.

Benny ruffles his hair. “Enough.”

“Eguh,” Dean says, standing on unsteady legs.

Benny tumbles Dean into his car and drives him home. “I’ve never known you to be a maudlin drunk, Dean.” 

“Your face is maudlin.”

“Ok, I get it. No feelings talk.”

Dean grunts his agreement and closes his eyes until the car stops and Benny helps him out of the car.

Dean stops abruptly, pushing Benny away just before he turns and hurls into the bushes. When he’s done, Benny pulls him close and pushes his hair off his forehead. “Jesus, cher, you’ve got it bad, don’t you?” Dean is sick and miserable and Benny is a good friend and an alpha, so Dean just leans against him taking some comfort from the familiar scent. 

“Why doesn’t he want me, Benny?” Dean asks. The alcohol has him feeling needy and vulnerable. He doesn’t like it, but he knows Benny won’t judge him.

Benny’s enormous hand just keeps raking through Dean’s hair. “As far as I can tell, your boy hasn’t said he doesn’t want you.”

“I’m difficult.” 

Benny huffs a laugh into his hair. “I ain’t arguing.”

“I’m too big for an omega. I’m not ‘pretty’ or ‘pleasing’.” Dean’s mouth twists around the words.

“You’re also an idiot.” 

“Benny.” Dean struggles to push Benny away, but Benny just holds him fast.

“Dean, you’re sad and drunk, but if you think that boy up there doesn’t want you because you ain’t pretty or pleasing enough than you are dumber than a sack of potatoes.”

“You never wanted me.” Dean knows it’s a terrible time to bring it up, but it’s the only argument he’s got.

Benny sighs. “Dean. I spent the first six months we knew each other trying to get into your pants, but you never gave me any encouragement.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

“I…was interested. I just…didn’t wanna fuck up our friendship.” Dean admits into Benny’s chest.

“I figured that out eventually.” Benny’s still stroking Dean’s hair, Dean enjoys it for a few minutes before he pulls himself together.

“Too bad that ship has sailed. I could use some good old fashioned ego-boosting sex with a hot alpha.”

“Andrea likes you, but I suspect we’d both end up skinned alive if we didn’t let her at least watch.” Dean pushes at him again and this time Benny laughs and lets him go.

“Asshole.” 

“Come on, brother, you need some sleep.” Dean lets Benny do most of the work of getting him onto the elevator and holding him up.

The elevator dings open on Dean’s floor and Benny guides Dean down the hall. “You’re a good friend, Benny,” Dean says, it sounds loud in the hall.

“Uh huh,” is all he gets in return. Dean realizes Benny is concentrating on not letting Dean slide to the floor. 

Dean decides to be helpful and pull out his keys. He drops them just before they get to Cas’ door. Benny stops them both. Dean starts to lean down for the keys, but stops halfway distracted. “Doesn’t it smell good up here, Benny?” Dean pushes himself off Benny to get closer to Cas’ door. “Come ‘er. Smell this.” He leans his face against the door. The cool wood feels good under his skin.

Benny just laughs and says, “Come back, cher, you’re going to wake your friend up.”

“Not my friend. Don’t worry. He never comes out here when I’m here.” Dean’s misery flares up again.

Benny has his arm on Dean, gently tugging, which is the only reason Dean doesn’t fall directly into Cas when he opens the door. 

Dean brightens, “Cas.” Cas looks at Dean and then at Benny and Benny’s grip on Dean’s arm. Dean’s nose prickles unpleasantly and then Cas has stepped between Dean and Benny. Benny drops Dean’s arm and holds both hands palms out, fingers up to Cas. 

“He’s ok, brother, just drunk. I’m taking him home.”

Cas turns to look at Dean. Dean smiles up at him, because his eyes are pretty and this is as close as they’ve ever stood to each other.

Cas turns back to Benny and his voice comes out as a forced whisper, “You’re taking him home?” He sounds scandalized, “He’s drunk.” Dean wants Cas’ eyes back on him, and also for Cas to stop smelling like burnt tires. 

“I’m just a friend. I’m not staying. I’m just making sure he gets home safe.” 

Dean is drunker than he’s been in years, but his brain is starting to sort out the situation enough to realize Cas is trying to protect him. From Benny. And Benny is…being careful with Cas. Dean wants to laugh at the absurdity of two alphas who DON’T even want to fuck him fighting over his honor. He’s never really done the whole omega thing right. And, he suddenly realizes, he doesn’t want to hurl on Cas’ shoes.

“Ok, that’s enough,” Dean steps in front of Cas and puts a hand on Cas’ chest to make sure he stays put. Cas bristles but doesn’t move. Cas chest is solid under Dean’s palm. Dean licks his lips and lifts his hand so he’s no longer touching Cas.

“Dean, you are _distressed_ ,” Cas doesn’t move, but this close Dean can see fine tremors in his arms. 

“Yeah, well, what can I say? I had a shitty week and got stupid drunk. Made my best friend listen to me whine about…shit. Also, I think I’m going to puke again soon, so…”

“Again?” Cas asks, eyes skipping between Dean and Benny.

“I’d be careful where you step in the parking lot in the morning,” Benny says. 

This more than anything seems to convince Cas that Benny isn’t there to take advantage of Dean’s drunken misery. Cas scent turns less angry and more concerned. Benny must smell it too, because he slowly drops his defensive posture. 

Cas turns contrite quickly enough to give Dean whiplash, “I’m so sorry, Dean, you must want to get to bed. I’m sorry to have interrupted you.” Cas looks and smells like he wants to reach out and physically fuss over Dean. But his arms don’t leave his side. 

Dean just stares trying to figure out what is going on with Cas. “Cas,” Dean starts, “W—“

Benny breaks in with a hand on Dean’s arm, “Come on brother, let’s get you to bed. Maybe you guys can finish this conversation in the morning. Nice meeting you Castiel.” Cas just nods and watches as Benny drags Dean down the hall to his own apartment. 

********

Dean wakes up to a terrible pounding. He struggles to lift himself out of bed, but stops when he realizes the pounding is coming from his head. He squints at his nightstand and finds a glass of water, a bottle of Tylenol and his phone charging on its stand. God bless Benny. 

_Oh god._ Dean thinks, _Cas._ Humiliation runs hot and cold down Dean’s spine. He’s fuzzy on the details, but Cas definitely saw Dean at his worst last night. _Wonderful._

Dean’s whole body revolts when he sits up. He can’t remember the last time he felt this hungover. He manages to swallow two pills and finish the water before he drags himself into the shower. Afterwards, he feels less like he’s going to die, but his skin still feels hot and prickly all over. Dean can’t remember the last time he had to go to work with a hangover. Last night is turning out to be whatever the opposite of a gift that keeps on giving is.

He manages to fry and get down an egg sandwich before he rushes out the door to work. For once, he’s glad he never runs into Cas in the hall. He hasn’t let himself dwell too much on how last night went down, because he doesn’t think he’s going to come out of it looking very good. It’s not like the memories aren’t there, he’s just…ignoring them. 

The smell in the hall doesn’t do anything good for his hangover. There’s his own sad-sack smell combined with Cas’ burnt-tire indignation. Benny’s more neutral sent is overpowered by the sad-angry- _miserable_ quality still hanging in the air. Ugh. Dean redoubles his effort to not think about what actually happened last night. He rushes past Cas’ door, just in case this is the morning he actually decides to leave for work at the same time as Dean. He takes the stairs to avoid lingering. 

********

It’s about midday when Dean realizes there’s more going on in his body than a hangover. He thinks he can be cut himself a break for not realizing sooner, considering his heat is two weeks earlier than expected. Just acknowledging what is happening makes the hot prickling sensation more pronounced. No wonder everyone in the garage has been giving him the fucking once-over. _Jesus._

Dean looks around until he catches Bobby’s eye. “I gotta leave, Bobby.”

“No kidding, ya idjit,” Bobby replies gruffly, “See you Monday.”

Technically Dean could probably be back on Friday, but he knows better than to argue with Bobby. He nods his thanks before he washes up and heads home.

********

The drive home is better in the sense that his pounding headache is gone, but worse in the sense that he can’t stop thinking about Cas. About how his big hands might feel all over his body, about how his intense stare might get even more intense when he comes, about how his dick’s probably huge and perfect and would scratch this itch better than any of the toys currently waiting in his bedroom.

When he pulls into his parking spot, he rests his head on the steering wheel and lets himself breathe deeply. He’s going to get out of his car, take the elevator upstairs, walk through the terrible funk of sad hormones in the hall, get to his apartment and take care of himself, alone. It’s a good plan. He won’t see Cas and beg for his knot, like some kind of sex-crazed omega porn stereotype, not because he wouldn’t be willing to beg if he thought it would get Cas in his bed, but because he won’t see Cas, because he never sees Cas and everything is going to be normal and fine.

Dean only has to wait a few seconds for the elevator to ding and open. He steps in and, _fuck,_ the smell. Cas had to have just been in the elevator recently. It doesn’t have the pissed off smell from last night. It’s not…happy…exactly…more determined. His heat-addled senses are more convinced than ever that Cas is the perfect alpha, not just perfect, but perfect for Dean. He wants to rub himself all over the walls of the elevator. He has just enough presence of mind to remember, one, gross and, two, this definitely means he’s not going to run into Cas, because he either just got home or just left. Either way, Dean avoids the elevator walls, pulls at the collar of his shirt, and thanks whatever higher power there is for preserving his sanity.

Until the elevator doors open. Because there’s Cas, at his door, looking at Dean. Cas is frozen with his keys out poised just near the lock and his briefcase is in the other hand. Dean can’t move. He feels a hormonal spike and knows he’s starting to leak slick. Cas’ briefcase falls to the floor. Dean watches as Cas closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and shudders all over. Dean feels the slick start to move down the inside of his thigh. Dean’s just standing there, staring. The silence stretches out between them. Cas still hasn’t moved. The elevator doors start to slide closed. Cas eyes pop open and he’s three steps to the elevator, arm out in front of him to stop the door. Dean’s too dazed by the hormones pumping through his system to react quickly. The doors close just as Cas shouts, “Dean!”

Dean hears one loud thump on the elevator doors, then quiet. The elevator is still. Dean lets his heart rate calm. If he strains he can hear Cas breathing on the other side of the doors. This is Dean’s least favorite part of going into heat. Things like logic and consequences seem so much less important than usual. Cas is on the other side of that door, and he wants Dean. Finally. Because he’s in heat and even an alpha who hated Dean would have a hard time turning him down right now. Not that he thinks Cas hates him. He’s just never been interested before. But, Dean thinks, it’s different now. If he wants Cas, if he’s willing to risk the consequences, he can have what he wants right now. Dean forces himself to think about how he’ll feel two days from now, when Dean’s body is still in mate-mate-mate mode, but Cas is no longer intoxicated by Dean’s hormones. Would he still barely see Cas? Would they be casual acquaintances with occasional, wild heat sex thrown in the mix. Dean feels nauseated at that thought. 

“Dean,” Cas says quietly, “are you ok?”

Dean must already be more under the thrall of Cas’ alpha hormones than he thought, because he means to say, “I’m fine,” but what comes out is, “I don’t know.”

Cas whines low and mournful and it has Dean pressing up against the door. “Dean, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…I wouldn’t, please believe me. I would never…you just took me by surprise.” And in a quieter voice, “You seem to do that a lot.” Something about that admission sets a bell off in Dean’s brain, but it’s hard to concentrate on that when Cas is on the other side of the door. “Please tell me you believe me, Dean.”

Dean has to swallow a few times before he can get his voice to work, “I believe you, Cas.”

“Then why won’t you come out?” Cas asks, voice rough with suppressed anxiety.

Dean laughs high and a little hysterical, “Buddy, it ain’t you I’m worried about.”

Cas’ voice is all sharp attention when he says, “What?”

“Cas, the only reason I haven’t asked you out yet, is because you’ve been avoiding me carefully enough that even I can take a hint.”

“Take a…hint?” Cas asks faintly.

“And if I come out there and you’re all…you, and I’m,” Dean looks down at himself for no one’s benefit, “like this…listen, I know I’m pumping out come-fuck me hormones, and if you don’t,” Dean licks his lips before continuing, “want me when I’m not…let’s just say, I know—theoretically—I would regret that, but as soon as this door opens I’m not sure how much I’ll care.”

“Dean,” Cas’ voice is very close to the door now, “I realize now might not be the best time to ask, but why do you think I don’t want you?” There’s a strained note to the end of Cas’ sentence.

“Uh,” Dean replies dumbly, “The avoiding me, the slamming doors in my face, the general…lack of interest during our brief conversations…I mean, I thought, the other day, outside, when we talked, that was good? But then…nothing. What was I supposed to think?”

Dean hears a dull thunk and thinks it might be Cas head hitting the doors. “Dean, I went into rut a month early the night we met. You’re right, I have been avoiding you, because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I’ve never,” Cas stops abruptly breathing hard enough that Dean can hear it, “I’ve never reacted to anyone like this before. I just…I wasn’t sure how to handle it. I was afraid I’d say or do something unforgivable. My brothers, the way they acted around omegas, I didn’t. I didn’t want to be _like_ them and I was so proud of myself, because I wasn’t and it wasn’t a hardship. It never even occurred to me. And then I smelled you and I nearly dropped my dresser down a flight of stairs. But you came to my rescue and there you were, so open and friendly, and I didn’t want you to know how all I could think about was scraping my teeth down the side of your neck until you were begging.” 

Dean keens a little at that and more slick slides out, but he can’t help asking a little breathless, “Begging for what?” 

“Dean, please come out.”

“Yeah, ok.” Dean reaches for the open door button, but the elevator dings and starts to move. “Shit,” Dean says mashing the open door button.

“What, Dean, what’s happening?” Cas calls a little frantic.

“Someone must have called the elevator,” he says. The elevator moves slowly down farther and farther away from Cas, so Dean yells, “I’ll be right back!”

Dean just hears a muffled “DEAN,” and two loud bangs on the door above him. It makes Dean laugh out loud. His whole body is thrumming in anticipation. The distress in Cas’ voice as Dean is being carried away only adds to Dean’s euphoria. It might be a little fucked up, but Cas’ hopeless cry at Dean being taken away from him only adds more fire to his heat. By the time Dean makes it back up to the fourth floor, Cas is going to be riled up and desperate to get his hands all over Dean. Dean tries to make himself look less like a horny, leaking omega for the benefit of the poor, unsuspecting sap who called the elevator, but mostly he just gears himself up to push out of the elevator and take the stairs back up to Cas as soon as possible. 

The elevator is never a speedy option, but it’s gears seem to be made of molasses today. Dean stares at the numbers above the door, willing the indicator light to flash faster. Three, cu-chunk, Two, cu-chunk…He hears raised voices waiting below him. He doesn’t care, he’s going to blow past whoever’s there anyway, until,

“What the hell dude, I was here first!” 

Dean hears a thunk coming from below, and then, “DEAN!” 

Holy shit, cu-chunk, One, Ding. The doors slowly pull open and instantly Cas’ arm, followed by his whole self is in the elevator with Dean. The neighbor standing outside the elevator just wrinkles his nose and says to no one in particular, “I’ll take the stairs.” Dean wants to call out an apology, but all he can focus on is Cas’ body pressing him back against the elevator wall. Cas is pressed against him with his nose buried in Dean’s neck. His breaths are labored and his arms scoop between his back and the wall to pull him in tighter. “Dean,” he says in a pained voice. 

Instead of the frenzied rutting he was expecting, Dean finds his fingers carding through Cas’ hair while he whispers, “Hey, it’s ok. I’m here. I’m here.” 

“I couldn’t…I wasn’t fast enough,” Cas pants into Dean’s neck.

“You were right there when the door opened. I’m fine. I’m here. It’s ok.” Dean continues dragging his fingers through his hair and whispering nonsense into his ear, until his harsh breathing smoothes out, replaced by deep inhales up and down the length of his neck. The air in the elevator loses the rough edge Cas brought in with it under Dean’s careful praise. Slowly the smell turns into something else entirely as Dean’s body starts to remember that he’s got a hot, apparently willing alpha in front of him. Dean doesn’t know if it’s the enclosed space or the heat working on his own system, but Cas suddenly smells even better than Dean remembers. “Hey, Cas.”

“Yes, Dean,” Cas says without stopping his now open-mouthed exploration of Dean’s neck.

“We need to, uh,” Dean cuts off when Cas’ teeth scrape gently behind his ear, “push 4 or we’re never gonna get back upstairs.” 

Dean expects Cas to pull away enough to push the button, but instead, Cas pulls him along, never lifting his lips from Dean’s neck. He reaches out and feels for the button and Dean resigns himself to a slow crawl back upstairs, stopping at every accidentally pushed floor, but the elevator lurches upward, only stopping once they reach the fourth floor.

Cas is still plastered to Dean when the elevator dings and the doors open. They haven’t moved past the need to be touching at as many points as possible. Cas’ mouth still tracing the length of Dean’s neck as if seeking comfort there.

Dean leans away just enough to indicate the open door and to pull Cas through it. Cas follows closely behind, Dean’s shirt gripped in his hands. Dean stops in the middle of the hall, not sure whose apartment they’re heading for. Cas takes advantage of Dean’s indecision to pull him toward his own door. Cas fumbles the keys out of his pocket and has them both quickly inside. 

Cas pushes his door shut, but doesn’t immediately move back to Dean’s side. Dean watches Cas’ face cycle through a series of emotions that he can’t interpret. Cas’ still smells like he wants to devour Dean, but hesitation is written all over his body. 

“Cas,” Dean starts uncertain what he’s supposed to say next. He’s not in the habit of picking up alphas he barely knows to have freaky heat-sex. He takes a step forward, but Cas arm shoots out to stop him.

“Wait, Dean, I just…I wanted, I wanted to do this right and not just…I didn’t,” Cas cuts off frustrated.

Dean dips his head to catch Cas’ eye. “Come on, man, there’s no perfect story, but this feels pretty right to me.”

“I…” Cas closes his eyes. “Dean, I _want_ you.” 

It feels like there’s a bigger admission in that statement than Dean can parse in his current state. “Here I am. Come get me.” Dean turns and runs toward the door he deems most likely to be a bedroom. It was maybe a dirty trick to get Cas to turn off his logical brain, but Dean is not above tricks at this point. When he reaches the door and yanks it open he finds a small boring office. There’s a desk with a few piles of paper on one wall and a treadmill in the corner. His mouth turns down at the corners in disappointment and then Cas is barreling in behind him bringing them both to the carpet. 

Cas maneuvers them until Dean is on his back with his arms pinned above his head with Cas poised above him. Dean makes an embarrassing noise as his body reacts. Cas gaze is roving over Dean’s face getting caught on his lips over and over. Dean’s body is pulsing with want, but Cas is waiting for something.

“Kiss me, dumbass,” Dean offers.

Cas’ head drops and he snorts, one small, short thing, before he presses the full weight of his body on top of Dean and sets to work turning Dean’s brain upside down with his lips. Dean’s higher faculties are finally, blissfully offline. All he can think about is heavy weight of Cas above him, the hot press of lips, the words whispered, gravel-rough, in his ear.

Cas keeps it together long enough to get them both naked. Dean is no help at all, just staring at all the skin he wants to touch and mark. He’s not above begging for Cas’ knot, which pulls an abrupt rumble out of Cas’ chest and gets his full weight back on Dean, but this time with the bonus of sweat-slick skin gliding together. The carpet under his bare back is softer than he expected. 

Just when Dean thinks he’ll lose his mind from wanting Cas’ cock inside him, Cas hoists his hips and there’s a tongue, and ok, that’s ok too. Cas is making noises like he’s dying and Dean is burning up, pressing his ass into Cas’ face in a way that he probably should apologize for later. “Cas,” Dean starts, “Jesus, Cas, come on. Need you.”

Cas lifts his head to stare at Dean like a particularly debauched prairie dog. Dean reaches out to pull Cas in for a kiss. He smells like Dean and he tastes like Dean and Dean’s sure he’s been ruined for any other alpha. 

“Come on,” Dean repeats, “I want you.” 

Cas pulls back and stares down at Dean. “I’m yours,” he says.

“Show me.”  


Cas leans down to lick a stripe up Dean’s neck. It’s not enough, but, in spite of the circumstances, he and Cas hardly know each other. Cas rises up and puts his huge palms behind Dean’s thighs to push them up. He lines himself up ready to push in, but holds himself there, watching Dean. The tease is excruciating, but Dean doesn’t have the leverage to do anything about it.

“Dean, I want to take you on a date.”

Dean’s mind screeches to a halt. “What?”

“A date. When your heat is over. I want to take you on a date.”

“Oh my god, do we have to talk about this right now? Yes, I’ll go on a fucking date with you. Of course. Jesus. Motherfucker. Please, god, just get your fucking dick inside of me right now you asshole.” 

Cas only responds to Dean’s tirade by entering him in one long, slow glide. All at once Dean feels like a puppet whose strings have been cut. Satisfaction screams through his veins at having Cas inside him. Dean’s had an alpha while he was in heat, before, but it was never like this. He’s starting to feel the carpet scratching at his back with each thrust, but he doesn’t care. He grips Cas to pull him closer until Cas can hardly move inside him. It doesn’t matter. Cas is kissing him. Dean is hard between them, but it’s almost an afterthought. “Cas, please.” He doesn’t even know what he’s asking. Cas grunts and thrusts faster. Dean goes boneless beneath him. Cas reaches between their bodies and strokes Dean in time with his own thrusts. Dean’s orgasm builds quickly until he’s shouting “Cas,” and spilling messily between them. Dean feels Cas’ knot swell and catch, locking them together as Cas releases inside of him. 

Cas rests his head on Dean’s chest, breathing heavily for a few moments, before he manages to arrange them both into a more comfortable position. “Wow,” is all Dean has the capacity to say.

“Mmhmph,” Cas replies into Dean’s hair.

Dean closes his eyes and just feels Cas wrapped around him and locked inside him. They lay in the quiet, content. The air is filled with their mingled scent. Dean thinks they smell mated already, which is weird, but he can’t deny it makes him feel relaxed and satisfied. 

Once Cas pulls out, Dean is abruptly aware of the rug burn down his back. “Ugh. This carpet is not comfortable.”

“To be fair, I wasn’t expecting to have sex on it,” Cas replies, then somewhat shyly, “I have a perfectly good bed in the other room.”

“Well, then, I guess instead of re-carpeting your office, we could just move in there and see how it compares?”

********

Before Dean’s heat is over, they have sex in Cas’ bed three times, twice on the couch, one uncomfortable time against the kitchen counter, and accidentally one more time on the office carpet. It aggravates Dean’s rug burn, but it’s worth it for the way Cas laughs when Dean criticizes the cable management under his desk while they’re still tied together. 

********

Dean’s heat ends on Friday and Cas asks him out for beer and burgers on Saturday. Turns out dating Cas is just like heat-fucking him on terrible carpet: inevitable, sometimes frustrating, unexpectedly hilarious, and better than anything.


End file.
